


A thank you letter to IKEA

by MaybeItsJustMyType



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Sherlock's got a filthy mouth, Sherlolly - Freeform, flithy and sweet, porn with slight plot, university fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/pseuds/MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt From a list that stardust-sketcher posted:<br/>•Its like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute.</p><p>Goes from making the bed to being in the bed pretty quickly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A thank you letter to IKEA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vonPeeps (BoodleBrown)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=vonPeeps+%28BoodleBrown%29).



> This is my first smut, so concrit is good! But be nice? They do tumble into bed fairly quickly, but it its set at uni age, plus, it's fantasy...
> 
> Also I am just having fun, I don't have any rights..

Molly yanked her pillow out from under head, cursing, she pulled it over her face attempting to block out some of the noise coming from the flat above hers. It made absolutely no difference. Groaning, she threw the pillow in frustration and then blearily sat up and grabbed her phone to check the time, 3.14. _3.14am?_ This guy is off his rocker, she flopped back on the bed in frustration, even more irritated when she hit the rock hard mattress without her pillow to cushion the blow.

Right, enough is enough, she had Meena’s barbecue tomorrow and that was going to be harrowing enough without looking like she'd spent the night passed out in an alley way. Flinging her duvet off, she tumbled out of bed, pulling on her flats and buttoning her coat over shorty pyjamas. There was no need to dress up to yell at some inconsiderate berk. Stomping out the door she made her way up the stairs muttering to herself about the thoughtlessness of some people.

Sherlock's patience was not wearing thin, it had completely dissolved well over an hour ago, he picked up the instruction booklet once again and groaned aloud, the damn thing still made about as much sense as a toddler’s crayon scribbles. Resisting the urge to snap the various pieces of kindling that IKEA claimed could be configured into a bed frame, he settled instead for bellowing curses.

This is all John's fault, if he hadn't insisted on moving out of their flat share in order to share with his girlfriend, Mary, he wouldn't be in this position. Since his parents had decided he couldn't be trusted with his trust until he had been clean for a year, - he was 9 months clean, which he thought more than sufficient, but they were being dull, insisting on the full year, – which meant this was the only flat he could afford that was within walking distance of the university. It was so cheap and ghastly that it didn't even come furnished, although, judging by the state it had been in when he had moved in, – before Mummy had taken to it with scrub brushes and a surfeit of cleaning products – it may not have been wise to inhabit the previous tenant’s bed.

A sharp, angry tapping at the door roused him from his ruminating, he sighed and ran a hand through his curls before heading to face the music, it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the late night surprise guest was pissed about the ruckus, he hadn't been subtle in his displeasure with his task. Opening the door he stated in an imperious tone, “Yes, yes, I _am_ aware of the time, I _do_ realise that I've been rather a disturbance.” He stopped short, standing at his door was a girl, five foot nothing, long silky chestnut hair with auburn lights, dark eyes so large they seemed to generate their own gravity, he pulled himself back to reality at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, so you are aware of the time are you? Well so am I – _now_! It's past three in the morning and you're throwing a tantrum worthy of a two year old!” Stopping to catch a breath Molly looked up at him properly, - and he was up, he was at least six feet tall, - and _fit_.. Her gaze took in his face, blue eyes, hollowed cheeks under impossible overhanging cheek bones. The moment she became aware of his amusement, her anger intensified, “Are you _laughing_ at me?” She spat at him, disbelievingly.

“I think you're adorable, I was enjoying the diversion,” he corrected.

“Oh,” she breathed out, he was stunning, and flirting with _her_ , her rage evaporated. “Thank you, erm, so why are you so angry then?” She asked in a softer tone, willing to forgive now that she had discovered she lived below the most handsome man she'd ever seen, who happened to find her adorable.

He noted her change in mood approvingly before standing back from the door slightly, smiling and gesturing she should come in, “It's an IKEA bed, if I can't figure it out, I can assure you the task is impossible, I am a genius, ergo, if I am unable, it's not possible to assemble it. Tea?” He offered.

Molly started unbuttoning, nodding absently at the offer of tea, she slipped her coat off, not missing his sharp intake of breath - they were rather short pyjamas, - she bent over to pick up the instruction booklet, humming thoughtfully.

Sherlock did a comical double take, when he realised that he could see the outline of her pretty lace pants, he stood staring at her arse until she straightened and turned to him, he blushed and murmured softly “Sorry, ah, can you help?” Trying to look nonchalant.

It was her turn to grin, “I have a bit of a knack for IKEA bed frames, I worked at an IKEA the first year of university in the evenings, so you, my friend, are in luck.” Her triumphant smile showcased her dimples and he thought, _let's hope so._

“So I'll just get the tea on, shall I?” Pulling out his phone he texted John explaining the situation and asking how to best proceed, he could picture John's smug face ‘ _Oh_ , _the_   _genius_ _needs_ _help_ _from_ _a_ _mere_ _mortal_ _such_ _as_ _myself_ , _well_ _now_ , _how_ _the_ _tables_ _have_   _turned_.’ He didn't care, he hit send anyway, he glanced back at the girl currently cross legged on the floor, - showing a good bit of thigh, - Yes, definitely worth it.

Molly looked up at him, noticing where his glance had landed - and stayed, turning into a stare, - she raised her eyebrows at him grinning, and asked, “Why didn't you pay the guy that comes to set it up for you? Surely that's easier than staying up half the night fighting with it.”

“Well I don't think it's turned out too badly,” he winked and said, “I'll play the damsel in distress more often if it means you'll rescue me.” Molly ducked her head blushing, and obviously pleased. “What is my white knights name? Pray tell.” He smirked at her, loving her blushes, _She’s_ _so_ _sweet_ , _the_ _perfect_ _complement_ _to_ _me_ , _John_ _is_ _always_ _saying_ _I_ _need_ _to_ _be_ _sweeter_ , _I_ _wonder_ _if_ _she'd_ _like_ _to_ _teach_ _me_? _Be_ _my_ _personal_ , _on_ _call_ _tutor_.

"Molly Hooper,” she told him, eyes shining as she tucked an escaped strand behind her ear, “And yours, fair damsel?"

“Sherlock Holmes,” he bowed and added, “I should love to say ‘At your service,’ but that particular line seems to belong to you,” he gestured to the rapidly taking shape bed.

"You could still say it,” Molly told him softly, looking up at him through her lashes, “You could help me in return.”

“Oh? Did you have a particular task in mind?” He asked, suggestively letting his gaze travel slowly over her. “I have a barbecue tomorrow and I don't really want to go, everybody will tease me if I go alone. You could come, just as a favour,” she blurted, “Not as a date.” She braced herself for rejection. _Beautiful_ _men_ _like him do not date ‘adorable’_ _girls, not even adorable girls who fix their bed in the night._ _He's just flirting to get his way, don't lose your heart as well as your head, Hooper._

Sherlock stood observing her, cataloging her expectation of a rejection, this at least he could easily fix, “I'd be happy to take you Molly Hooper, on one condition,” Molly sucked in a breath and waited for the axe to fall, “If it's a date, a _real_ date.”

Molly looked up at him a biting her lower lip, “That condition seems acceptable, Sherlock Holmes. Now how about you hurry up with that tea so you can get over here and help me get this bed set up?”

He chuckled, “With pleasure, Miss Hooper.” Conversation came easily to them as they worked on the bed, - Sherlock overseeing rather than being of any actual use - they were both science majors, and both were ‘different.’ Their career goals even dovetailed nicely, with her pathology and his detecting they would make quite a team.

With the exception of John, Sherlock had never gotten along with anyone so well, and, in contrast to his feelings for John, - no matter uni’ gossip to the contrary - he could not stop imagining how it would feel to let his hands wander while snogging her. He couldn't believe such a stroke of luck in meeting her had come from renting this scummy flat and purchasing an IKEA bed, she was intelligent, fit, and so sweet.

She was obviously attracted to him, which in itself wasn't unusual, women often were, what _was_ unusual was that she was enjoying his company, he had made her laugh several times and she had blushed becomingly more than once. Her doe eyes followed him when she thought him unaware.

God, he wanted her, he had never been so tempted by a woman before. Of course, he wasn't a virgin, he had indulged, but as an experiment, just to tick required boxes during adolescence, a time during which remaining chaste would have put him at a loss. One thing Sherlock would not tolerate was a lack of knowledge, especially in an area that idiots excelled at, judging by the average I.Q. of the nation at large.

His classmate and sometime friend, sometime foe, Irene Adler had been more than willing, she had been offering him her body for months. It had been a simple physical exchange, rather mechanical, there had been pleasure, yes, but no more than he would get from a good meal or a relaxing bath. He had not been half hard just from her presence, nor had he felt an intense impulse to push her up against the nearest wall.

By the time they had constructed the bed, light was streaming in the windows, Sherlock picked up the mattress and flipped it into the frame, then stood dusting off his hands in satisfaction. Molly appeared with his protector, sheets, duvet and cover, “Not quite, it's not a bed until it can be slept in.” Molly pointed out.

As they pulled the protector and sheets over the bed Sherlock replied suggestively, “Mmm I can think of something other than sleep that people do in a bed.”. Molly's answering swallow and burgeoning blush gave Sherlock confidence. “What time is this barbecue?”

“1 o'clock,” Molly smiled shyly. They wrangled the duvet into the cover together and high five'd.

Sherlock sat down on the bed and patted the empty space next to him, Molly sat down, eyes shining with anticipation, she turned her head to him and their eyes locked, Sherlock broke first, eyes flicking to her lips, he heard her breath hitch so he leaned into her slowly, “May I kiss you Molly Hooper?”

Molly's answer was more a breath than an actual sound, “Yes.” Needing no further encouragement Sherlock closed the distance, as their lips connected, Sherlock was amazed, how can the act of two people pressing their lips together feel _so good?_

Molly's tongue slid along the seam of his lips and heat exploded in groin, a shiver ran down his spine, a sweet tingle that seemed to send a cascade of blood straight down to his prick.

Molly moaned as Sherlock pushed her gently onto the bed tucking her underneath him, he lay between her legs so she could feel his erection hard against her, his tongue thrusted into her mouth rhythmically and she ground herself against him. Breaking their kiss again Molly grabbed the hem of her pyjama top and pulled it over her head, without pausing she pulled her bandeau tank top off revealing her breasts and causing Sherlock's heart to stutter, his cock felt like an iron bar, he moaned, and rutted against her mindlessly, attacking her mouth ferociously.

Far from finished Molly tugged at his t-shirt, only too happy to oblige he sat up and yanked it off, then crashed back onto her prone body, both of them groaned when her breasts flattened against his bare torso. Sherlock rolled them over so that Molly was on top, allowing his hands to explore her, he ran his palms up and down over her breasts appreciatively, then he kneaded and circled, Molly's nipples hardened and she sighed and arched her back in obvious bliss, his hips bucked in sympathy.

Sherlock surged up and pulled her to him, desperate to get closer, his mouth landing on hers with a growl, rolling them over again so she lay under him, he pulled at her pyjama bottoms and pants, the movement a question, Molly's answer was swift, she pushed the offending garments down as far as she could while still trapped under him and he happily took care of the rest.

Molly became aware that he had stopped moving, looking up she found him frozen by her feet where he had slipped her pants off, Sherlock was staring at her enraptured, he looked as though he had found a mirage in a desert. She felt heat pulsing between her legs, no man had ever looked at her like that before, with each pulse she felt herself becoming wetter.

Sherlock let his hands roam up her legs slowly, Her skin felt smooth and soft, he could see her pussy glistening at the apex. He moved toward his goal achingly slow, wanting to make their pleasure last, he could hear Molly's breath becoming choppy and her moans were increasing, his cock twitched in anticipation. He took his hands off her legs and Molly begged, “ _Please_.”

He stood and slid his pants down, he had never been so hard in his life, he wanted to bury his cock in her dripping cunt desperately, but first he wanted to hear his hear his name on her lips when she came in his mouth. He saw Molly's eyes landing on his cock, his pride swelled when she licked her lips and bucked her hips, her eyes almost black with desire.

He positioned himself between her legs and trailed up her legs with open mouthed kisses, “Oh god, Sherlock, _please_ , please touch me.” His mouth descended on her clit before she had quite finished getting the words out. Molly wailed, “Oh, oh, oh fuck, oh my god, oh fuck, I'm nearly there.” Sherlock sucked her clit while he worked himself furiously with one hand furiously, Molly's whole body was tensed and shaking, her head thrashed from side to side, “Oh Sherlock, that's so _nice_ , oh, I'm coming, I'm coming, ahhh,” her hips arched right off the bed in her ecstasy.

Sherlock leaned back, still stroking himself languidly, as he watched her coming down. Molly panted out “Condom? I want you to fuck me now, I need to feel you.” Sherlock went to his chest of drawers where he'd stashed a box he'd confiscated from John for an experiment. Ripping the foil, he knelt on the edge of the bed. Molly took the condom from him, “Can I?” Her voice was shy which struck him, _how can she feel embarrassed about a condom after what we just did? He found he rather liked the innocence of it._

His thoughts shattered, skittering in all directions when her tongue swirled on the head of his dick tentatively, he hissed and pushed her gently away, Molly looked up at him uncertainly, “Sherlock? No good?”

“I won't last,” he told her shakily, Molly smiled, pleased with his reaction. Rolling the condom on, she lay back and pulled him on top, she grasped him and guided him towards her entrance, as he pushed inside he focused his eyes on Molly, checking that she was still okay. Molly was pinching her nipples and writhing, “Please, I want you to fuck me _hard_ , please Sherlock.”

Her innocence juxtaposed with her filthy mouth unleashed a torrent of cursing from Sherlock, “Oh fuck, you're so fucking beautiful, I can't believe you're letting me fuck you, oh, you're so _wet_ , your cunt is perfect, oh god, oh Molly, _fuck_ , I want to make you come again, will you come for me? Come all over my cock while I fuck you?” Sherlock had never been like this before, he was in _ecstasy_.

Molly was loving it, he was so beautiful and he was grateful to her? She had never been so wet, and his _mouth_ , he was driving her crazy, she let her hand drift between them and circled her clit, panting and cursing. Sherlock was transfixed by the sight, he pounded into her as he watched her fingers rubbing, his cock sliding in and out of her sweet pussy, “Molly, I'm going to come, let me feel you come,” he begged desperately.

His deep voice entreating her to come was all she needed, waves of sweetness washed through her, Sherlock leaned down and kissed her hard as his hips stuttered and he came. He eased out holding the condom at the base carefully, flopping down next to her, he took a breath and murmured, “You're so perfect, we need to do that again, _often_.” He pulled the condom off and wrapped it in a tissue before lobbing it into the bin.

“Can we sleep first? I'll be happy to do that with you each and every day, but first sleep, Mmm?”

“Yes, sleep, then the barbecue, then we can come back here and I can make you come again.” Sherlock snuggled against Molly, he turned her on her side and pulled her in to be his little spoon, she was so tiny, she fit perfectly. His phone beeped a text alert, it occurred to him that John had woken up and was replying to his S.O.S. He let his mind wander imagining John's reaction to Molly, _his_ Molly if he had anything to say about it. Sherlock and Molly, and John and Mary. He felt a childlike delight as he drifted off with thoughts of double dates and adventures.

Molly felt his smile against her shoulder and his heart beat slowing as he drifted off, she was picturing Meena's and Caroline's faces at the barbecue when she walked in with tall dark and handsome, she allowed herself to wallow in smug satisfaction, they'd have to turn their _helpful_ attentions elsewhere because she felt sure they'd know from one look at her that she'd been recently righteously fucked, and would be leaving early for an encore performance.

They slept twined in each other's arms, both more relaxed than they had been since childhood, dreaming of each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos let me know you like my stuff and would be willing to read more.. Also, when I see them, it feels like I imagine winning the lottery would feel like, so please be generous, if I made you feel something, let me know.. :)
> 
> P.s. Pls don't tag stardust-sketcher unless you know her personally, as I have no idea whether or not she reads smut I have put an ask in her box on Tumblr, if she into smut, yay, tag and read, if not, I will edit out the filthy bits and give her T rated version..


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